I’d never done anything this spontaneous. It was one thing to be ready to move within commuting distance, and quite another to quit my job, buy a house near a town, and decide to turn my hobby into a career. And yet here I was, doing all of those things.
Money was going to be tight now that I was jobless and, when I looked up movers, I couldn’t believe the quotes they gave. It wasn’t as if I had a ton of belongings. My car was small but paid off. I did a test run to see how much I’d be able to carry in it and managed my jewelry-making supplies and a suitcase, not much more. Thank goodness for online forums because I saw someone talking about selling their car and buying a bigger vehicle as their solution.
Luck was on my side, and I found an old truck with one of those big cabs that were all the rage in the 1980s. It had low mileage and I was able to walk away from the deal with some cash in hand. If I was bringing lots of furniture, it wouldn’t get me far, but I’d sold it all to neighbors for a few bucks. Living in a studio meant my furniture was studio sized. It was better to buy new, or preferably thrift new-to-me furniture when I got there and leave room for everything else.
My kitchen supplies only filled five boxes, my books another handful, and, of course, clothes and bedding. At least half of what I owned was devoted to jewelry making. I’d spent years growing my tool stash and finding treasure to turn into necklaces, bracelets, etc. They took first priority in the truck. If I ran out of room, buying new dishes or pajamas was a lot easier than replacing new findings or soldering equipment.
The day of the move came, and I managed to get everything loaded without leaving behind a single item. I called it a win. The closing was the next morning, and my hope was to make it there by midnight. I didn’t come close, thanks to a flat tire and sheer exhaustion.
I ended up staying the night along the way in a run-down motel. It was cute, and the owner nice enough, but I really wanted to be in Whisper Grove already. The next day, despite getting up early, I pulled into town just in time for my closing.
All the home-buying content I’d devoured said that the most important thing to do was the final walk-through right before handing over your money. That wasn’t going to happen and, given I hadn’t seen the house or the property in real life, it was a risk. But what part of this hadn’t been.
I justified it by remembering it passed inspection as structurally sound, and that was good enough. Everything else could be fixed, cleaned, or painted.
Unlike my first closing, this one went off without a hitch. The people were nice and excited. They all said that my property had once been the home of the best peach orchard in the area. None of them offered information as to how it became vacant, but then again, I didn’t ask either. Part of me worried that it was a crime scene or something, and that was information best left far away from me.
I pulled into the driveway, and it was exactly like the picture I saw online. My first stop was the house. I expected it to be rough, and, just like the inspection said, there was a lot of little crap to be fixed. Also years of dust and dirt. Honestly, better than I’d feared.
The report had said the roof would need to be replaced, so I knew that going in. I’d expected water stains and possibly water damage. I found none. I caught it in time and if the onlineroofing-cost estimators were to be believed, I had enough money to replace it before the season changed.
I opened all the windows and the door, airing the house out, and wandered back through the orchard.
There was a heaviness in the air. At first, I thought maybe I’d run into spirits, because yes, I was one of those people who believed all things were possible. Why would we have so many stories of things that went bump in the night, if there weren’t any? As I looked at the trees, the reality of what I was sensing hit me. The sorrow was coming from them, the trees. I wasn’t sure how I knew it, but I did. They were overgrown. They were suffocated. Some of them looked so close to death, I feared there was no chance.
“Don’t worry,” I said, putting my hand on the trunk of the tree closest to me. “I’m going to do everything I can to bring you all back.”
I didn’t know a lot about trees or growing fruit, but I was going to learn. I remembered reading somewhere that talking to plants was good for them, so as I walked through the orchard, I made sure to touch each one and let them know I was there.
I introduced myself and told them my story. It was silly, I knew that. If anyone saw me, they’d think I was off my rocker. But if I could do something this simple to make even a shred of difference, I was going to.
I reached a tree that had already died or was on the brink, I wasn’t sure which, and fell to my knees, sadness overwhelming me. I didn’t understand why it hurt so bad. It was a tree, but these trees…they felt like the heart of the land, like they were important.
I sobbed and sobbed. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sparkle. It called to me, and my tears slowed as if by magic.
At first, I thought it was glass, like maybe someone broke a bottle and never picked it up, but I reached down to grab it. Itwas a little silver trinket. I couldn’t quite make out the shape. It had been crushed, possibly by a piece of farm equipment, but something had definitely flattened and scratched it.
I held it tightly. I didn’t know what I was going to make out of it, but it was going to be something beautiful. I put it in my front pocket, wiped the tears from my eyes with my shirt, and went back to the truck.
Back at the farmhouse, I stopped short, bending down at the steps after another sparkle caught my eye. I bent down to find another treasure. This one was small and possibly part of an old game. It was round and had a stem. At first, I thought it was an apple, but the more I looked at it the more I wondered if maybe it was a peach.
“This place is a treasure hunter’s dream.” I climbed the steps to close all the windows before I left.
I still had to check into the local B&B. My plan was to stay there for a few weeks while I fixed up the house. Orly, the owner, promised they were really flexible and not to worry about it. Small towns were so much different than the city.
Tomorrow, I was going to begin the cleaning, which meant I needed all the sleep I could get.
Chapter Five
Corvus
I can’t get the image of the human man out of my head. The way he teared up at the sight of an unkempt and lonely orchard. The smile that lit up the world when he found a tiny silver trinket buried beneath years of dirt the wind had brought in.
He was handsome, sure, but it wasn’t his good looks that made the biggest impression on me.
It was the way he cared. For lands time had abandoned. For a sliver of a gift from me to the farm or from the farmers to me, which one I couldn’t remember. There was a time that I was presented with so many gifts, I could scarcely keep up with the ever-growing pile of them at my feet.
They once called me the Crow King.
